Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) (34 page)

Blane

A
fter we won the nationally televised conference on the road in front of our biggest audience ever, Conley gave up on quieting us down and hustled us out of the gymnasium. ESPN was waiting in the locker room when we filed in, so we gave TV interviews for what felt like hours.

When the reporters left, we slapped each other on the back and celebrated.

“Your dunk, my man, is sure to be top ten tomorrow,” Mo screamed in my ear. “That shit was insane, the way you went over that dick’s head!”

I managed a smile. Okay, more than a smile; I was damn fucking proud. We were over halfway to my dream . . . all of our dreams. The championship was staring us in the face. The league was going to come hard for me, and then I’d be able to buy my mom a house like I’d always wanted. I’d be living my life the way Cate had predicted. It was all fucking coming true, just like she’d wished for me when she set me free.

“That alley-oop was no joke either, brother,” I hollered back to my roommate. “Wouldn’t be surprised if your move beat me out on the list, Ash.”

He deserved the good juju after living with me for the last few weeks. To say I’d been a prick was putting it mildly.

Yeah, I was more driven than ever to win this fucking title, but not because I wanted the fame and fortune. I wanted to control my fucking destiny and go get my girl. Yeah, she’d cut ties and thought I’d easily accept all that. Little did she know, I was letting her have her way and watching her do her thing from afar.

She was demolishing common thought around here, and I smiled just thinking about it. I laughed to myself. She’d thought she was so cunning and smart, breaking free. We’d only been intimate a handful of times, but Cate and I were friends. Maybe even the best of friends, before the sex.

She’d grown on me quickly with her sassy mouth and cute ass. I missed our banter the most, and I had a few tricks up my sleeve. The shrimp thought she’d outsmarted me.

Nope
. Not even close.

The guys made on like I was ridiculous not to use the “hall pass” Cate had given me. Alex moaned about it all the time. I didn’t know why he was so worried about my sex life; he wasn’t attached and could have as many ball babies as he wanted.

Mo whined that he wanted one pass before becoming a dad, and then he’d whisper in my ear he was lying. “On my soul, Steele, this baby, that woman, best thing ever. But I got to keep my rep,” he’d murmur.

“Fucking did it, yes!” Mo shouted, bringing me out of my stupor and back to the present.

“Where’s the party when we get back?” Alex called through the locker room as he pulled on his boots.

“Heard Sonny wants in,” Ashton said.

“No,” I said, raising my voice over the din.

It was one word, but firm. The guys knew one thing to be true—Sonny was dead to me. He could have controlled some of the burn, corralled his urge to spread the gossip. He could have stopped the dumb fucking intern, but he didn’t.

“We know, bro,” Ashton said. “No Sonny. Party’s at Alex’s, and D got some heavy hitters to make sure he doesn’t make his way in.”

Coach walked in and raised his hands to stop the chitchat. “Enough party talk, gentlemen. We now have a tournament to win. So get your heads outta your asses and get on the bus.”

We all nodded but grinned as we shuffled out to the bus in the dark night. There was no way we weren’t having a party.

Then we were going to win the whole fucking shebang, and I was going after my lady. After all, I wore her name on my body and she wore mine. As far as I was concerned, she was ruined for any other man.

Catie

Mid March

T
he game was over and my hands still shook. Adrenaline and pride flowed through my veins, making my whole body tingle.

Hafton won the championship!

I’d only been a part of it for a short while, on the far periphery of the world these guys lived in, yet I couldn’t help but cherish the moment.
My guys did it.

The New York-based arena was a sea of dark green and white. Fans swarmed onto the court afterward, cheering for the players hefting a trophy over their heads. I’d watched from the nosebleed section, staring down at the hardwood from so far up, my guys in green had looked like tiny action figures moving the ball up and down the court.

Stupidly, I’d traveled home to New Jersey the day before, licking my wounds and under the guise of wanting to check on my dad—when I only wanted a hug from him—before heading to my new school. I should have gone straight there as soon as the trimester ended but I didn’t, making all kinds of stupid excuses.

I could lie to myself all I wanted, but the truth was I still liked Blane. I wanted to see him happy and successful. It couldn’t be with me, but maybe I’d catch him making out with a ball baby. Perhaps seeing him move on with my own eyes would finally shut my fucking head up.

Earlier this morning, fully ashamed with myself for making excuses, I boarded the train to New York City. As I’d walked to the subway and then the thirteen blocks to the Garden, anticipation had begun to pump through my veins.

My guys were going to do this.

Filing into the arena, deep in thought as usual, I’d bumped into the guy in front of me and prayed he didn’t turn around. Muttering, “Sorry,” I pushed forward with my head down.

I tried not to catch anyone’s eye as thousands of us filed in, opened our bags for inspection, and showed our tickets. I hoped my few moments of fame in the Midwest were sandwiched between more salacious news back east. Just in case, I had a baseball cap pulled low over my forehead, my eyes painted a smoky gray, sheer pink lipstick glossing my lips, and a nondescript dark green shirt covering my tattoo.

Like I expected, my team had done it. Now they were celebrating down below, and I was a lone bystander in the distance. They weren’t
my guys
anymore. I’d done a bang-up job of making sure of that.

It had been all on me, a phrase I’d become all too familiar with.

But I’d owed Sarina, and I still did. She and the other girls had put their lives on hold for me, shared their secrets with me knowing I was using them for my own personal redemption, and had my back when shit went down. While my personal life crumbled and I lost any chance with the first guy who called us a
thing
, those ladies held my hand and rubbed my back. Shelby and Tess too.

I would miss them . . . a lot. Despite their pleas for me to stay in Hafton, I was leaving. I’d been asked to join two other women’s studies programs. One offer was from a school with a strong communications department where I could double major.

My dream career was right there, swimming in front of my eyes like a mirage in the desert. I had to take it and leave the women I’d started to call family. They were part of the reason I so quickly accepted; they needed to be rid of me.

Fuck, I need to be rid of me.

Now—just like that—all the waiting was over. Blane had led the team to a national championship and was on his way to the league; I was sure of it. Agents would be waiting for him outside the locker room and calling his phone nonstop. Coach Conley had kept slapping him on the back after the game and whispering in his ear—at least from what I could make out through squinty eyes.

I was certain they were off to party, and I was ready to go home.

Alone.

I couldn’t bring myself to leave the stadium until I saw every last person file off the court. I watched the maintenance staff run a wide soft-cloth broom over the glossy pine, scraping off confetti and streamers. One bent to pick up a few sweaty towels and folded up the chairs along the bench. I envisioned Blane, Mo, and Alex hooting in the locker room, celebrating, showering . . .

Wait, not showering. That was a definite no-no—thinking about Blane in the shower.

When silence finally fell on the arena, I walked slowly down the stairs to the exit, running my hand along the handrail, taking in the last few minutes and trying to soak in the win. I followed the narrow tunnel leading out to the concession area and found the escalator to the exit. The halls were mostly empty, other than a couple of stragglers sucking down the last of their beer.

At the bottom, I looked left and then right, wondering which way led out toward the subway. I chose right, winding my way through the desolate concrete jungle until I hit a dead end. Realizing I should have chosen left, I turned back the way I came.

“Catie?”

Someone called my name from behind me, but I ignored it. I knew the voice.

“Catie, stop!”

I picked up the pace, forcing my legs to work overtime.

“I’m faster than you,” Alex called out, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. And he was.

He caught me, his arm coming around my body, stilling me.

“If it isn’t the big bad wolf,” I sputtered into his face.

“What are you doing here, Goldilocks?”

“None of your business.”

His eyes narrowed, boring down into me, searching my soul, and I gave in.

“I wanted to see you win, all right? All of you, Alex.”

“Why didn’t you let him know you were coming?”

There was no point in pretending I didn’t know who
him
was.

“He doesn’t need to know I was here,” I said, bringing my hand to my hip.

“He’s not mad about what you did. When word got out you were defending your stance against some professor, he was happy. Proud or some shit. It’s nothing like how you’re making it out to be.”

“It doesn’t matter.” It was a whisper, my lips lying for my heart’s benefit.

“It does. He was hurt you did that . . . with other dudes. His pride hurt. But seriously, you should go see him.” Alex’s eyes pleaded with me.

I shook my head. “I have to go. Congrats, Alex.” I pulled away and took off toward the exit, and he let me.

I took the train straight back to Jersey, hugged and kissed my dad, and then called a cab to the airport. I didn’t bother with my mom and sisters. They’d become close to slaying me to the media themselves. In fact, my dad had to threaten them with taking them out of his will if they didn’t cut that shit out. Seriously.

It was time for me to make a fresh start, someplace where I was wanted. Professionally, anyway.

I was pretty sure I’d burned my one chance at being wanted
personally
.

Catie

Early July

I
walked reluctantly through the revolving door into Florida’s muggy, oppressive heat. Knowing the humidity would instantly curl my hair, I stopped outside the exit to fasten my unruly curls on top of my head in a messy bun. My T-shirt was stuck to my stomach and I lifted it, fanning it for a moment.

When I’d left Hafton right after the winter term, I welcomed the change in climate. April and May were much better in sunny Florida than rainy Ohio, although July was turning out to be a challenge, what with the heat and humidity.

I was thrilled when the University of Central Florida welcomed me into their women’s studies program. There I’d finish my degree with my major in women’s studies and a minor in mass communications. I’d even qualified for on-campus housing, which was good because my dad could only afford so much. The tuition was more expensive in Florida, but I’d earned a sizable student-aid package complete with a paid internship at the student TV station.